


acceptable in the 80’s

by convergent



Category: IT (2017) RPF, IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anyways, Fluff and Angst, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Hurt/Comfort, IT Spoilers, M/M, Spoilers for Chapter 2, eddie is the sweetest boy, richie deserves so much better, so don’t read if u don’t want them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 04:04:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20557943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convergent/pseuds/convergent
Summary: basically where richie’s flashback scene has a waaaaay happier ending because richie tozier deserves the world and eddie kaspbrak <3





	acceptable in the 80’s

A silent breeze filtered through the air, creating a silent hum throughout the quiet town. The sun provided tingling heat on Eddie’s skin, not quiet as warm and bright as it used to be. Goosebumps littered Eddie Kaspbrak’s small arms, his breathing a bit labored. He brought his inhaler to his lips and inhaled, his next breath coming just a little easier. Gazebos or not, the inhaler rested in his hand almost always now. “C’mon, Eddie, just make it home,” He muttered to himself, feeling pitiful. Weak. He felt weak.

Since the split of the group — since the Neibolt house argument — everything has felt extremely off. Eddie didn’t feel at home anywhere, anymore. The Losers’ hadn’t spoken to him in days, and his nightmares have progressively gotten worse and worse. Eddie wasn’t sure that they were even nightmares. The images of the lepper’s ugly face floated through his thoughts. He gripped the skin of his arm tighter. When he dared to raise his eyes from the rocky sidewalk beneath his feet, the slightest, tiniest hint of relief flooded through his frail body. 

In front of him, the giant statue. He was crossing nearly the entire town at this point to get home, dreading the silent darkness of his room, where he was most vulnerable to his thoughts. Where he was most vulnerable to It. 

As Eddie’s eyes adjusted, the small frame of a boy sitting on one of the dark green benches came into view. Eddie paused, slowing to a stop and squinting. Eddie shook his head, there was no mistaking the light blue and pink Hawaiian shirt that Richie wore often. There was no mistaking the dark brown hair, the body hunched over with his head in his hands. Eddie sped up quickly, speed-walking towards his best friend. A short, worried thought crossed his mind, wondering why Richie Tozier would seem so — sad. 

Eddie nearly jumped out of his skin as Richie rose his head from his hands. Not because he feared Richie would see him, but because Richie wasn’t looking at him. Richie was looking dead ahead, at the statue. Eddie’s skin felt like thousands of needles were digging their way into him, a lump beginning to form in his throat as he saw a balloon. A red balloon. Eddie lost sight of Richie from the trees, and quickly took another puff of his inhaler.

Eddie yelped as he heard a loud roar and a heartbreaking scream from a voice that could only be Richie’s. Eddie ran past a couple trees, stopping as a giant hammer slammed through the ground, spraying Eddie with dirt. Eddie coughed and his eyes welled up with tears from stress, his heart beating out of his chest as he finally caught sight of his best friend.

Richie was curled in on himself, laying on the wet grass. Eddie ran over to him, tripping over his shoelaces and trying not to collapse as his legs gave out. “R-Richie!” Eddie yelled, dropping to his knees. Richie squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head frantically. Eddie looked up and realized It was gone and the statue was completely still, not moving.

“N-no. This isn’t r-real. Please stop,” Richie whined, his fists clenched, hiding his face as he stayed down. Eddie fell silent, his small hand coming up to lay on top of one of Richie’s clenched fists. His heart skipped a beat, his heart breaking in two at the sight of his loudmouth best friend looking so broken. There were tear streaks down Richie’s pale cheeks, some dry and some fresh. His face was flushed a dark, crimson red, similar to the color of the red, deflated balloons scattering the open patch of grass. “Y-you’re not my Eds... please l-leave me alone... I hate you!” 

“Richie, Richie,” Eddie panted desperately, the gentle grip he had on Richie’s fist tightening slightly. “Rich. It’s Eddie... it’s... your Eddie.”

Richie let out a shaky, defeated breath, as if a part of him had given up. The tears that had been welled up in Eddie’s eyes, clouding his vision, finally slid down his cheeks. Richie’s fists fell limp, the back of Richie’s hand pressed against the palm of Eddie’s. Eddie bit his lip worriedly, stopping to watch Richie’s expression turn from rigid to calm. “Eddie?” Richie asked weakly, his tear-filled eyes finally opening and squinting from the sudden light. 

“Yeah, dipshit, it’s me,” Eddie let out a long breath, not bothering to move his hand that was still resting upon Richie’s shaking one. “What happened to you?” 

Richie grew silent, looking at Eddie with a solemn, guilty look on his face. Eddie didn’t have the slightest clue as to why Richie would look so ashamed. Richie snatched his hand from Eddie’s quickly, scrambling to sit up straight on the ground, putting a couple of inches between them. Eddie furrowed his eyebrows, feeling a slight pang in his heart. “‘Chee,” Eddie whispered, “I’m really not It.” 

“That’s not it, Eddie,” Richie growled, no real heat behind his words. He let out a loud huff, raising his hands to his disheveled hair and tugging angrily. He blinked as if to cover up the tears returning to his eyes. “Just- just. Just don’t even worry about me.” 

“Exactly how the fuck am I not going to worry about you?” Eddie spit back, the fire in his eyes returning. Richie almost let out a broken laugh at the sight, the reason unbeknownst to Eddie. Eddie was beyond hurt, feeling like the relationships and world around him were beginning to crumble apart. “You’re my best fucking friend and I’ve never seen you cry in my entire goddamn life!” 

The second the sentence left Eddie’s mouth, Richie was on his feet and hastily wiping the tears from his cheeks, scrubbing as if to make Eddie believe they were never there at all. He looked disappointed. “I’ll call you, Eds.” 

“The hell you will,” Eddie growled, picking himself off the ground, making sure to grab his inhaler that he had previously slung to the side. Eddie gripped Richie’s forearm, “I’m coming with you.” 

“Why?” Richie asked, exasperated. “Why, Eddie?” 

Eddie’s eyes darted to the ground, his grip on Richie already growing weak. It was Eddie’s turn to feel vulnerable under Richie’s gaze. His lip wobbled, “Because I don’t wanna be alone and I miss you. Because I almost just watched my best friend die and- and I must not be a very good fucking friend if I wasn’t there to try to save you.”

“Eds,” Richie sighed. 

Eddie looked up from the demolished grass under his feet, “What?” 

“Come on,” Richie said softly, not bothering to remove Eddie’s hand from his arm as he turned towards the woods. There wasn’t a chance in hell that he was about to go near that statue again, Eddie thought, and turned too. Eddie gently let go of his arm and let Richie lead the way through the woods, carefully stepping over roots that scattered the ground. Ironic, he thought, considering he had tripped over like eight of them trying to get to Richie anyways. Eddie and Richie were silent for the entire walk. 

They had an unspoken thing, Eddie supposed. Around any of the other Losers’ the two never stopped bickering with one another, spitting out one joking insult to the next. One filthy ‘I fucked your mom’ joke from Richie, one ‘Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you’ from Eddie right back. Back and forth, on and off, like a light switch. That was their normal, and it wasn’t authentic annoyance, it was just how they were with each other. Eddie would never, ever speak of it out loud, but deep down he kind of liked it, too. This was the side of the two that everyone saw. 

Here’s the unspoken thing, right here, Eddie thought. The breeze filtered through the air once more, and Eddie carefully watched as it brushed strands of hair from Richie’s forehead. It was the only sound to be heard for miles. Or maybe it was the only one loud enough for Eddie to focus on. Everything around him seemed kind of quiet when he had grown accustomed to insidious growls, high-pitched screams, sickening giggles from a demonic clown that raised the hairs on his arms. Richie didn’t have to speak, didn’t have to rant. Eddie didn’t have to come up with a weak threat, didn’t have to stand up for himself. This was theirs. 

This moment was theirs. The times when the world felt dismissive and dull around them, and they could read each other without saying a word at all. Richie shut his mouth, Eddie shut his, and the only communication was the soft brush of one cotton t-shirt against the other. The soft puff of Eddie’s inhaler and the scrap of Richie’s beat up shoes against broken pavement. The closing of front doors and the distant sound of a bell – likely from a kid on their bike. 

This happened often when Eddie was by Richie’s side. When no one was around. He would fall silent and Richie would fall silent and Eddie’s heart would speed up instead of slow down. Like there was something tickling his heart, or like there was a devil and an angel sitting upon his small shoulders, whispering to each other. 

It stayed like this until Richie kicked his sneakers off on his front porch, opening the screen door and then opening the front door. Of course it was unlocked, Eddie thought. It always was. 

Distantly, Eddie remembered a 12 year old Richie shrugging and saying, ‘My parents don’t lock the door.’ Eddie always wondered why. He never asked.

Eddie closed the door behind himself and they stood there in the darkness of the living room, neither knowing what to say or do. Eddie cleared his throat and rested his hand on the back of the couch. “Do you want to read some comics?” 

“Uhm, yeah,” Richie nodded, his voice rough and dry. “That’s cool.”

With that, Eddie yearned to lighten the mood, to hear Richie’s loud voice booming with laughter. Eddie smiled softly and took off in a sprint towards the stairs, jogging up them and running to Richie’s room. As he had hoped, Richie was hot on his tail, a soft laugh finally leaving the boy’s lips.

Eddie shut Richie’s door quickly and locked the boy out, giggling loudly. “Beat ya, asshole!” Eddie laughed, listening to the slam of Richie’s fists against the door. 

“Unlock my door, dipshit!” Richie screeched. Eddie couldn’t stop giggling, unlocking the door suddenly, making Richie fall forward. He yelped as Richie collided with him and took them both down to the carpeted floor of Richie’s bedroom. Eddie landed uncomfortably on his back and Richie rushed to catch himself with his hands before he crushed him. “Rich!” Eddie laughed weakly, looking up at the boy hovering over him. 

Richie’s face flushed crimson when Eddie met his eyes. It took him 30 entire seconds to push himself off of Eddie, the guilt filling his chest again, his smile fading. 

“Hey, what’s the matter, trashmouth?” Eddie mumbled, nudging the boy now sitting beside him. 

“Henry called me a faggot,” Richie blurted suddenly, his frantic eyes darting from one wall to the other. 

Eddie bit his lip, his first instinct to hold Richie’s hand. That, Eddie thought, that was why Richie had put inches between them as they were helpless on the dirty patch of grass. He could still feel the dirt itching under his nails, his skin tingling suddenly. “‘Chee...” Eddie whispered sadly, “You can’t listen to a fuckhead like Henry Bowers.” 

“I know, I know that,” Richie shook his head, feeling guilty for more than just the fluttering of his heart when he was around boys with curly hair and brown eyes, the boys who were short and had a mouth on them. Richie refused to come to terms with why. Why he liked boys who looked like Eddie and acted like Eddie and were Eddie. Why he liked boys at all. Richie gasped for air again.

Eddie didn’t say anything more. He grabbed Richie’s hand tightly and rested his head gently on his shoulder. He didn’t know if ‘I’m sorry’ would be an appropriate response. He didn’t know how to respond. Eddie didn’t understand why Bowers’ words would affect Richie to the point of bursting into tears. There was one answer, possibly, but Eddie was just starting to learn to not get his hopes up. 

“Sorry,” Richie sighed, his voice mellowing out after a few minutes had passed. Eddie just shook his head, squeezing Richie’s hand and moving his head to look at the boy beside him. 

“Comics?” Eddie asked, looking a little more relaxed. Relieved. 

“Yeah.” 

-

Two hours had passed in what seemed like five minutes. Eddie blinked as his eyes started getting dry, realizing how long he had been rereading the words over and over without actually processing any of them. He sat the comic book down in his lap, taking a deep breath and yawning. He felt Richie shift beside him and only then did he realize that they had gone from the floor to lying side by side in the warmth of Richie’s window seat. Richie had put quilts and small pillows on it to make it cozier to lay on, and he kept his curtains always open. That had only recently been noticed by Eddie, because after It started appearing in various forms around his house, he kept the curtains open at all times, too. 

Little strips of dark orange and yellows painted their legs, and Eddie absentmindedly waved his hand in front of the light to make them shift and change shapes. He didn’t realize the sun was already setting. Eddie jumped suddenly when he felt hair tickling his neck, his eyes darting to the side only to see Richie with his eyes closed and lips parted. His head had fallen slightly to the side, not quite touching Eddie’s shoulder but close enough that a few of his loose curls brushed against Eddie’s skin. 

It took two seconds for Richie to open his eyes, seemingly alarmed by Eddie’s shoulder colliding with his head. He sat up straight, his eyes still hazy from his nap and his hair a complete fucking mess. “Shit- sorry Eds,” Richie said sheepishly, reaching over Eddie to grab his glasses. 

“Wait-“ Eddie said suddenly, his hand grabbing Richie’s wrist before he could get hold of his glasses. “Don’t put them on.” 

“What? Why?” Richie said with a laugh, his eyebrows furrowing. “I can’t see for shit.” 

Eddie blushed, “Because, dumbass, it’s cool seeing you without them on. I forgot you don’t usually look like a coke bottle.”

Richie rolled his eyes but smiled, “Asshole.”

Richie realized he was still leaned across Eddie and dropped his glasses back on the quilt, returning to his sitting position. Eddie stared at Richie’s freckles for a moment and then whispered, “Do you hate gay people?” 

Richie froze, “What?” 

“Do you hate gay people? Like how Bowers does?” Eddie asked, his voice wobbling. 

“Uhm. No, I-“ Richie glanced awkwardly to the side, “No, I don’t. They’re just people, too, right?” Richie paused, looking at Eddie with a worried expression, “Do you?” 

Eddie stared at Richie, growing completely silent which visably made Richie go a little pale. He drifted for a moment, trying to focus on the soft melody of ‘Don’t Stop Believin’’ playing on Richie’s record player. “I think I like boys. I don’t want you to hate me, but I figured It was going to expose me, anyways.”

“Oh,” Richie said softly, and only then could Eddie lift his head to meet Richie’s eyes. “Me too.”

“Wait, seriously?” Eddie asked, his eyes narrowing, “Are you seriously joking right now, asshole?” 

“No, idiot,” Richie replied, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t come up with anything else to say, he was ignoring the fact that his heart was racing a mile and a minute. “So, whose this nice ole’ chap you got your eyes on, Eddie Spaghetti?”

Eddie shrugged, “He’s pretty fucking annoying.” Richie raised his eyebrows expecting Eddie to continue. 

Instead Eddie got that look of determination in his eyes that Richie genuinely is afraid of — determined Eddie Kaspbrak will always. get. his. way. 

Eddie leaned forward and pressed a sloppy, wet kiss to Richie’s cheek, blushing and pulling away. A shit-eating grin began forming on Richie’s face. 

“Shut up,” Eddie mumbled before Richie even said anything, hiding his face behind his hands. 

“That was so cute!” Richie’s smile could light up a room. Eddie realized he wasn’t crying on a bench with his head in his hands. He was smiling so hard that Eddie noticed he had little dimples, and there wasn’t a trace of guilt. “Cute, cute, cute!”

“Shut up,” Eddie said again, smiling just as hard. He laid his head on Richie’s shoulder and just laughed. “Idiot.”

“My Eds is the cutest!” 

“Richie for the last time! Don’t call me that,” Eddie practically wheezed, “You know how much I- well- like it.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was extremely rushed plus i’m still sad over chapter two so yea don’t kill me for my shit writing skills


End file.
